


Just Desserts

by 1848pianist



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Flirting, Fluff and Humor, M/M, Mutual Pining, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:27:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22595536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1848pianist/pseuds/1848pianist
Summary: It takes a lot to make Geralt of Rivia laugh.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 22
Kudos: 536
Collections: Best Geralt





	Just Desserts

They’ve been walking through the woods for four days, and Jaskier has seen nothing more exciting than Roach startling a fox out of the brush earlier this morning. There’s been neither hide nor hair nor scale nor feather of a monster worthy of a song for weeks. When Geralt finally stops to make camp for the night – deciding based on no criteria Jaskier can detect – there’s nothing more to look forward to than a meager dinner of dried meat and a long, chilly night.

Jaskier huffs. “If I’d known the life of the Witcher was predominately about grinding up herbs and brushing your horse, I’d have given up writing a ballad of your adventures ages ago.”

“Well, now you know. Feel free to leave at any time.”

Geralt’s expression and tone are as unreadable as ever, but by now Jaskier knows how to read his moods, however subtle they are. The quick, darting glance in his direction, the hint of a twitch of a smile, means he’s joking. If he was really angry, he wouldn’t waste words letting Jaskier know.

Sometimes, Jaskier wonders if Geralt takes all of his range of emotional expression from his horse.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily.” Jaskier stretches his feet out towards the fire – which Geralt built, of course, Jaskier’s never had much need for or much skill with roughing it – and strums his lute idlily.

“You could try helping, bard,” Geralt growls as he starts cleaning and sharpening his sword.

“Are you sure you want me to?”

Geralt snorts.

“What?” Jaskier asks, all innocence. “I can be helpful.”

Another piercing glance from across the fire. “Do go on.”

“I could…do laundry. Or—get water for Roach.”

Geralt puts his sword to the side and tilts his head. “This I have to see.”

Jaskier jumps to his feet. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Roach loves me. Come here, girl.”

He unties Roach’s lead and starts walking towards the creek a few yards from their makeshift camp. Roach snorts, sounding much like her owner. After a moment’s deliberation, she twitches her tail and follows Jaskier.

Geralt stays seated, eyes glinting in the firelight.

“Don’t smirk at me, witcher. Roach is a good girl, and she has more than enough loyalty for the both of us.”

“Hm.”

Roach comes to a sudden stop at the edge of the creek, flicking her ears but otherwise standing motionless.

“There you are, then. Freshest water on the Continent,” Jaskier says awkwardly, patting her withers. “Not thirsty?”

Roach blinks at him. She snorts again and lowers her head onto Jaskier’s collarbone, sniffing as though looking for carrots.

“Ah, see, you do love me.” He looks back at Geralt and gives a theatrical shrug. “Well, I tried. I guess it’s true what they say about leading horses to water and all that.”

The next thing he knows, he’s tumbling over backwards into the creek, where he lands on his tailbone, shoulder smarting from Roach’s shove. Roach whinnies, looking as pleased with herself as a horse can.

Sputtering and dripping, Jaskier stumbles to his feet.

“ _Rude_ , Roach, that was—I can’t believe you would do such a thing.”

Roach tosses her head, her large black eyes saying, _I’m not sorry in the slightest_.

Behind her, Geralt roars with laughter. Angry, embarrassed, and soaked to the skin as he is, Jaskier realizes with a jolt that he has never seen the witcher laugh. He’s certainly laughing now: head thrown back, teeth flashing. It would be terrifying, but it’s Geralt.

“It’s really not funny.” Jaskier schools his expression so as not to ruin the effect. “I could catch my death out here and it would be on your head.”

“Sit down near the fire and warm up, then.” Geralt’s shoulders are still shaking with laughter. “By the gods, bard, the look on your face.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“What a song this story would make.” Geralt smirks.

“You forget that I’m the one holding the pen, Geralt. Perhaps I will use this moment as inspiration for a moment of levity at your expense.”

“Hmm.”

Jaskier takes advantage of the moment to turn on his heel and storm back to Roach, taking hold of her lead.

“There will be absolutely no carrots for you in the near future,” he warns.

Roach shows her teeth at him, but she allows herself to be led back to the tree where Jaskier ties her reins. He stalks back over to the fire.

“Move over,” he says, elbowing room for himself on the boulder where Geralt is sitting.

“Plenty of room over there.”

“The smoke will get in my eyes. You move, if I’m in your way.”

Geralt snorts. “You’re dripping everywhere.”

Jaskier glares at him. “ _Hm_.”

The corner of Geralt’s mouth twitches. Jaskier leans over and rests his head on Geralt’s shoulder, warm and solid. Serves Geralt right if Jaskier’s hair soaks through his shirt.


End file.
